


Post-Battle Jitters

by one_of_those_crushing_scenes



Category: Avengers (Comics), Black Widow (Comics), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Captain America's Shield, Challenge Response, Dirty Talk, F/M, Interior Decorating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 04:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12247170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_of_those_crushing_scenes/pseuds/one_of_those_crushing_scenes
Summary: Written for the Tumblr Buckynat Smut-a-thon event. The prompt was, "Creative employment of decorative pillows."





	Post-Battle Jitters

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on 616/comics universe, but takes place sometime in the indeterminate (happy) future.
> 
> I totally didn't realize until after I wrote this that it might be unclear, but the lawyer mentioned below is Matt, not Isaiah! Pretend they know who he is again.

James finally gets the door open and they almost fall over each other in their rush to get inside. He locks up, she drops her Widow's Bite bracelets on the entryway table, and they move over to the couch, kicking off their shoes at the same time that she lies down and he climbs on top of her, making out like they're a pair of teenagers. When she comes up for breath, he pushes her long hair away from her neck and trails kisses along her neck, while the rest of her is all covered up.

Natasha's body is thrumming with adrenaline, aching for release, and she needs to get this costume off of her right now. She pushes herself up, causing him to sit back, which in turn knocks over a stack of papers from the shelf behind the couch.

"It's kind of messy," James says by way of apology. "Spring cleaning."

"It's November."

"Um, yeah." He leans in again, but something red and fabric-y catches her eye, peeking out of the pile, so she reaches around him and pulls it out. It's a throw pillow, looks to be hand-sewn, designed to look exactly like the Captain America shield.

"What's this?" she asks, holding it to his chest like it's the actual shield.

He looks embarrassed. "Oh, a fan sent it to me, back when I was Captain America."

"A fan sent you a decorative pillow?"

"Yeah, they would send all sorts of things. Letters, obviously. Lots of housewarming stuff, quilts and mugs and… this. Sam's got a collection, too. I don't get them so much anymore now that I'm Winter Soldier again."

"Aww, I'll make you Winter Soldier paraphernalia," she says, tracing her pointer finger against the red star on his arm. 

"Oh? What are you going to do when the Russians come after you for IP infringement?"

"Don't worry." There's mischief bubbling up inside of her, and she knows she shouldn't push him, but she really wants to, and right now, that's good enough of a reason. "I have a very good friend who's a _very_ good lawyer."

His eyes smolder, and he pushes the pillow out of the way and pulls her in. "I'm about to make you forget your 'very good lawyer,'" he growls into her neck.

She laughs with delight, knowing that it's all a game, that James knows that there's nothing from her past that could ever live up to what they have together.

He pulls her with him and they roll over onto the floor, where there's more space to work. She straddles him, runs her hands up his chest, cups his face with her hands and kisses him deeply.

He flips them over and unzips her costume down to her navel, nuzzling at the line of exposed skin on her belly. "Just to be clear," he adds, voice muffled, "I'll be doing that through effective sexing, not creepy brainwashing." It's been long enough that they can joke about that, which is nice.

He peels the costume away from her torso, off her arms and off her body, taking her panties with it, leaving her clad in only her black cotton bra. Her hips rise automatically to help him get the costume off, but she squeals as her bare bottom comes in contact with the floor.

"What's wrong?" he asks from where he sits at her feet.

"Cold!" she says, pulling herself up on her arms. "You need floor heaters."

He looks around, grabs the pillow from the couch, sticks his left hand under her bottom and lifts her entire body, and places the pillow underneath her. Then he sits back, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Better than floor heaters. Wish I could take a picture of this."

"Really? It's not weird for you since the shield is Steve's again?"

"The shield is bigger than just one person, Natalia," he says with an exaggerated huff. He runs his eyes over her, head to toe. "Now lie back and open up for me, darling. Let's see your pretty cunt laid out against the shield."

He's being ridiculous—it's just a _pillow_ —but the dirty talk does it for her. She leans back, lets her legs fall open, keeping her knees apart but drawing her toes together.

He just looks, and she feels herself growing wetter as he does, feels her juices flowing over her perineum down towards the crack of her ass, and all the time, he's _watching_. 

"You were amazing out there tonight," he says. "I love watching you fight. You're like a panther out there, all graceful and deadly."

"You did pretty well yourself."

He sets his thumbs on her labia, stroking them from the inside, opening her up, dipping his thumbs into her wetness and then spreading it all around. She's ready to jump out of her skin, needs to be filled.

"So beautiful," he murmurs. 

So empty, she wants to say, feeling her inner walls clenching. Instead, she grunts her frustration.

"Don't move a muscle." He disappears to the bedroom, returning a minute later with his shirt off and a small foil square in his hand. He stops short, taking in the view from this new angle. "Wow."

"C'mere," she says.

He doesn't. Instead, he unbuckles his belt slowly, puts his palm on his groin, and rocks his hips a little bit. Putting on a performance as she watches from below. Too slow. Entrancing, but much too slow.

He chuckles. "You're _dripping_ onto the shield." 

She knows she is, she's a mess, holding herself still as he drives her into a state from across the room. Finally, he kicks his pants away and sinks to his knees, then takes ahold of both of her legs, caressing her ankles as he places her feet flat on the floor. He takes his cock in his hand and strokes it, once, twice. When he picks up the condom wrapper from the couch, she uses her abdominal muscles to pull herself up and she takes the package from his hands. 

"My job," she tells him, ripping the package with her teeth and taking out the condom. He shudders when she wraps one hand around him, then uses the other to roll the condom on. 

She lies back again then, and he lifts her hips and pulls her in, finally joining their bodies together. She's so wet that it doesn't take much maneuvering; his cock slips easily through her folds and inside of her, stretching her out, filling her. 

He moves in and out slowly for a few seconds, and then she loses patience, rises up onto her toes, steadies herself by holding onto her heels, and thrusts back and forth so that she's the one fucking him. He supports her from below with his left hand, while his right hand busies itself taking off her bra. She shrugs it the rest of the way off, and her breasts almost hurt with the bouncing back and forth. James slides his left hand up her back to pull her up towards him, using his free hand to cup her breasts. He lowers his head to her chest, panting, as they move together. 

"Love you so much," Natasha says.

"Love you too."

He puts his right hand on her sternum to push her back to her earlier position, her lower back just brushing against the pillow, and he slides his right hand down her body until his thumb is grazing her clit.

She's moving as fast as she can, but she wants more, wants to be fucked so hard it'll burn the next day and she'll have to fight a smile every time she has to fight a wince. "Harder, harder, harder, please, James, love you, _please_ …" 

He finally gives her what she wants, dropping his hands to her hips and pistoning into her with everything he's got. She takes over her clit with her own hand, just in time for him to come, grimacing and repeating her name like a prayer. Two more thrusts, and she's there, too. He keeps going until her entire body relaxes and slides back onto the floor, and then he curls up into her, resting his head on her stomach.

"Oh my God," he says.

"Yeah."

"I've, uh, never washed that pillow since I got it."

"I'll shower."

"'Kay."

"Just as soon as I remember how to walk again."

"All right."

"You know, maybe you'd better just hose me off."

"Mmm-hmm."


End file.
